


Joy From Ashes

by FebobeFic_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 11:55:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 14,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28813035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FebobeFic_Archivist/pseuds/FebobeFic_Archivist
Summary: Following the Quest, a gravely injured Frodo is taken by Gandalf into the 21st century, where Frodo finds life-saving aid. . .and small pleasures unlooked-for.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic, originally written for the Waymeet Crack Me Up Challenge, is dedicated to SurgicalSteel and Riddlemaster, without whom this story would not have come together. An extra-special thank-you goes to both lovely ladies for their openness to questions, tireless answers, and general good-natured encouragement of the author. In addition, a gold star goes to SurgicalSteel for her medical beta and snarky medical dialogue work, without which this fic would not be what it is. If you like those bits, hug her. (If you like the medicine, hug both these ladies. I don't know what I'd do without them.)

PROLOGUE

Frodo found himself standing in what seemed to be an empty space. The ground beneath his feet felt solid enough, and when he looked up, the heavens were cloudless and filled with stars.

It was glorious.

"Frodo."

At the familiar voice, Frodo turned, mouth opening into an O of surprise as his disbelief turned to confirmation. Gandalf! It was Gandalf! With halting steps he began to approach, and then with running stride, as he discovered that his hurts seemed to have disappeared with the casting off of his weary body. Much to his relief, the wizard came to meet him, and put out warm arms to welcome him. Frodo could hardly help smiling for the first time in many days.

"Gandalf! Is it really you? I mean - I saw you fall, and - " He hesitated. "Have you come to show me the way? I never thought it would be like this. I never imagined I would get to see you again!"

Gandalf smiled, but there was a sorrow in his eyes which filled Frodo's heart with a sudden dread. "Yes, Frodo, but not as you expect. I have come to show you the way back."

"No." At once Frodo shook his head, pulling away. "Gandalf, I - I cannot go back. What I have done - what has happened - "

"I know. And none of it matters now." Gandalf's voice was kind yet firm. "Your time is not yet finished, Frodo, and so you must return."

"Please," Frodo begged. "I cannot. I am so tired - so very tired - "

For a long moment, Gandalf hesitated, and then he motioned Frodo to him, kneeling with one knee propped where he motioned for Frodo to sit, like a spry grandfather with a forlorn child. "Frodo. . .I cannot give you the healing you need. We have tried. But neither can I let you go. There is, however, another way. . .if you are willing."

Sitting, Frodo nestled close against the familiar comfort of the long beard. "Tell me."

"I can take you to another place - another time - where the healers will be better able to help you. They have medicines and machines that we do not have. Some of the things that they do will hurt, but it will be only for your good, I promise. And you have already suffered the greater miseries by far." Gandalf's compassionate gaze met Frodo's eyes. "They will be kind to you, and they will help you get well. They will give you medicine for the pain and for your breathing, and water to drink. Someone will watch over you at all times, and I will be in their waiting-area, to see you as often as they will permit me, which will be every few hours."

Frodo hesitated. A strange place and time? And yet. . .

"What of the others?"

"They cannot come yet. But perhaps when you are better, they may. Time passes differently in that world; I cannot explain all to you now, for time is of the essence. But know that it is a wonder even to the Istari. I could send back word to Aragorn through the palantir when the time is right, and your friends may come then. Sam needs to recover; I would not like to move him with that head injury, and he will be fine here. You, on the other hand, do need assistance if you are to hold fast. In that I agree with you." His gaze flickered across Frodo's face searchingly. "Will you consent?"

"Yes."

"Then close your eyes. Soon you will no longer be here." Gandalf patted his back kindly. "I know it is too pleasant a place to leave easily, but this is very important. And someday you will return in passing. I promise. But not yet."

Closing his eyes, Frodo sighed and rested against Gandalf's beard. Almost at once he could feel himself beginning to lose consciousness.

CHAPTER ONE

"We've got to get his pressure up NOW! Get the bloody central line in, we'll work on a PICC later - "

"Is the OR ready?"

"Almost."

Frodo would have cried out if he could have found the strength. Pain surged through his body - every bit of the pain he remembered, all the aches and torments of their journey, the agony of his missing finger, and new pains - a strange soreness in his arm, where he could feel - well, something. Pain in the bend of his other arm. He could feel something strange in his nose, but he made no move to struggle against it, because his breathing - though still difficult - seemed to come a little less painfully. Everything HURT. But he felt too exhausted even to cry out. . .though he struggled to open his eyes, anxious to see this new world Gandalf had described.

Men and women in white coats and coloured clothing bent over him, working frantically. Their clothing and hairstyles were unlike any Frodo had ever seen among Men or Elves, though they did not look unlike the Big Folk he was accustomed to from Bree. Suddenly one of the healers bent down, laying a hand upon his head.

"Mr. Baggins? Mr. Baggins, do you know where you are?"

He shook his head weakly.

"You're at - " Frodo listened closely, but the words seemed strange to him. It must be the name they called their healing house here. "You've been hurt very badly, but we're taking good care of you. We're giving you oxygen to help you breathe, and fluids and medicine through a special line. We're going to take you to surgery and clean out your finger."

Frodo had no idea what oxygen was, or what a "line" might be, but he knew that surgery was something dangerous and frightening, and he swallowed against a dry throat, trying to still the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. But Gandalf had said that they could better help him, and Gandalf would not have lied.

"OR's ready."

"Good. Let's go."

Frodo felt his bed began to roll, and realized suddenly that he was on more of a table with a thin mattress and sheets than an actual bed. Not that it mattered; the group took the rails and poles surrounding him and began to pull them along, moving him out from the little curtained area where they had been and into a long hallway with a light clatter of wheels and metal. The woman walked by the head of the bed, continuing to talk quietly to him.

"Your grandfather can wait for you in the surgery waiting area; someone is talking to him now. He can see you when you're awake."

Grandfather? Bemusedly Frodo realized that she must mean Gandalf. Whatever. It mattered little to him; he hurt so terribly and felt so unwell that he longed only to sleep. . .save for one thing.

"Please. . .water?"

The woman shook her head sympathetically. "I'm sorry. We can't let you drink anything when you're about to go into surgery." She smiled kindly. "But if it would help, I can see about moistening your lips when we get up there."

"Yes, please." Frodo's cracked lips hurt so badly that the prospect of any moisture sounded heavenly.

They came to a set of metal doors. Someone pressed a button on the wall. They waited, and Frodo wondered what they were waiting for. . .until the doors opened onto a little room, which they wheeled him into. The doors closed behind them, and again someone pressed a button on this wall, which held a long double row of buttons. Frodo thought he felt a slight sense of movement, and a few minutes later, the doors opened again, when they wheeled him out.

This time, the hall was different, but Frodo was beginning to grow past caring. The pain was worsening, and he felt dizzy although he was lying flat upon the table-bed.

"Mr. Baggins? Mr. Baggins, stay with us. We're almost there."

But Frodo felt himself fading, her voice sounding further and further away. . . .


	2. Chapter 2

"Mr. Baggins? All right, Mr. Baggins, I'm going to take this tube out for you now, so I want you to blow out for me. Might make you cough."

Frodo blinked groggily, trying to take in his strange surroundings even as he listened to the voice. Everything still hurt. . .but less so than before. He felt sleepy, and utterly exhausted, but the idea of someone removing the thing stuck down his throat was eminently appealing, and so he complied, doing his best to pretend he was simply blowing out candles on a birthday-cake back in the Shire. Out came the tube, slithering up through his throat. It did set Frodo to coughing and gagging at once, and he struggled to catch his breath. The man patted him on the back.

"Great job. That's better, isn't it?"

Frodo nodded, looking up at the man curiously as the stranger slipped something over Frodo's ears and beneath his nose, poking the tips up into his nostrils, something he suddenly recognised. That thing they had had on him when he first woke up here. . .it was the same thing. . . . At once Frodo relaxed. This would help him breathe, he realised. It was like plain clean air, only something better - oxygen, had the lady called it? - and it seemed wondrous after the foul air of Mordor and the ashy smog of Orodruin.

"I'll be by later to check on you. Good luck."

And with that, he was gone. Frodo actually felt relieved when a young woman came in less than five minutes later, smiling.

"I see you got rid of the vent. That's better, isn't it?"

Frodo had no idea what a "vent" was, unless she meant that awful tube, but he nodded. His mouth felt as dry as if it had been filled with cotton. "Please - who are you? May I have a little water?"

"My name is Allison. I'm your nurse." Her smile faded a little. "But I'm afraid no water right now. We can't give you anything by mouth just yet. But I can give you something to moisten your lips and mouth if that would help."

"Yes, please." Nurses he knew from the Shire; dry-nurses took care of sick and injured people who had no family to look after them, or whose family could not give them all the care they needed, for whatever reason. That must be what she was. He watched as she took a green spongy-thing on a stick and ran it under a stream of water in the sink on the wall, squeezed it out, then brought it back to the bed and ran it lightly over his lips. . .which, to his surprise, didn't feel so cracked or painful any longer. At her prompting, he opened his mouth for her to swab it as well. The sensation of moisture against dryness was such a relief.

"We'll try to get you off some of this medicine first, then see if you can't have some clear liquids. But for now you need the medicine."

Frodo couldn't quite get his mind around it. "But what happens if I don't eat and drink?" They had, of course, come to that point in Mordor. . .but he had thought them at the end of their journey, and ready to die. If he was to live, surely he would have to drink something, at least?

Allison smiled. "We give you everything you need through your central line." She tapped a pole beside Frodo's bed. Only then did he notice that there was some sort of tubing leading just below his collarbone. It felt strange, though it did not hurt. "Fluids and nutrition all go in through your central line. You can go for a very long time without eating or drinking with no harm so long as we give you these things."

Frodo relaxed a little. Gandalf was right; the healers in Middle-earth had nothing to rival this! Somewhat nervously he dared a glance at his finger-stump, which was covered with a dressing. "What about my finger?"

"The surgeon will come back to do what they call a delayed primary closure. They had to leave it open for a few days, but they will return to close it. They can do that here; they will give you medicine to numb your hand. You won't have to go back to the OR for it."

Come to that. . . . "How long have I been here, then?"

"This is. . .let's see, your fourth day, I believe."

Four days? Frodo blinked, though he felt his eyelids growing increasingly heavy. "Has my - grandfather - been here to see me?"

"Every time visiting hours are open. He's not missed a single time since you were admitted." She smiled, tucking the blanket more comfortably about him. "Sleepy?"

He nodded.

"Let yourself sleep. I'll be right here if you need anything, and if you sleep through shift change, your new nurse will be here to look after you. If you need your nurse when we aren't right here, just press this button." She showed him a little red button on a cream-coloured tube fastened to the railing along one side of his bed.

Closing his eyes, Frodo nodded and found himself promptly dropping off. . .but his dreams were dreams of Gollum, and of shadows, and of a lake of fire.


	3. Chapter 3

Stirring weakly, Frodo winced. He was beginning to be increasingly aware of the tubes leading from his body, and not all of them were without discomfort. One in particular felt decidedly odd - and he shuddered at the very thought of anyone putting a tube *there*, heat rushing to his face as he blushed, hoping desperately that it had not been one of the ladies. . . .

"Frodo?"

The voice that called to him was familiar, and with relief he looked into the face of Gandalf, who bent over his bed with concern.

"How are you feeling, my lad?"

"Hurts." Frodo swallowed against a still-dry throat. "Why do they have to put so many tubes in me? I did not think that I needed help. . ." He lowered his voice. ". . .making water. . . ."

Gandalf stroked his brow with a damp cloth. It felt good. "You are very ill, Frodo. They must know how much you make; it is a way for them to measure your condition. Besides, you require rest, and it is difficult to rest if you are waking every few hours to empty your bladder - which, with so many fluids, you would do."

"I suppose you are right." Sighing, Frodo looked down at his finger. Still the same. He had not missed the closure, then. "May I have water yet, or are they still giving me those medicines?"

Still stroking Frodo's brow, Gandalf shook his head gently. "I am afraid not yet. You still require the medicines to keep your blood flowing properly, for lack of better terms. They will continue to feed you through tubes so long as you are unable to take food or drink. When you are stronger, they will stop the medicines and give you liquids to try. If those should stay down, they will go from there."

"All right." Frodo yawned. "How long can you stay?"

"Only a few minutes longer. Visiting hours are half an hour at a time, and you slept for the first ten minutes."

"Oh." Frodo tried vainly to conceal his disappointment. "Will you be back soon?"

"In a few hours. They will let me see you again before you sleep tonight. But in the meantime you must rest."

As Frodo lay still, he became aware of low beeping sounds, quiet voices, bustle, whirring. . . . "How am I supposed to rest with so much noise?"

"Try not to pay it any mind. I know you are very tired. You will find it easier than you think - and if you have difficulty, you need only tell your nurses, and they will give you medicine to help. Call for them with the button if you have need of anything. They are more expertly trained than many healers in Middle-earth, and can give you your medicines, make you more comfortable, help you if you are in distress - there is a great deal that they can do. And the doctors - the healers - have ordered medicines and attentions for you; the nurses are checking your life signs every hour to see whether they should call the doctors back in to consider new orders."

"Oh." That all made more sense, then. "Is - is it really over, then? I'm safe?"

"Yes, Frodo." Gandalf smiled kindly. "You are safe."


	4. Chapter 4

Someone's hand brushed against Frodo's shoulder, and he attempted to shrug it away. But whatever the touch was did not go away. Drowsily Frodo opened his eyes.

The lights were dimmed, though still too bright - he was accustomed to sleeping in a darkened room. A nurse stood by his bed, holding his shoulder against his body. But between his shoulder and his body, in the fold beneath his arm, there was some sort of stick from which a cord ran to a box she held in her free hand, watching it patiently. Still, as he opened his eyes she looked up.

"Are you having any pain?"

Frodo thought for a moment. The tubing everywhere was uncomfortable, but apart from that, he really waa not in pain any longer. They must have given him some sort of medicine. He shook his head.

"Good. I'm just checking your vitals; I'll be done in a moment."

He watched, starting as the box beeped repeatedly, feeling somewhat relieved when she removed the probe and clicked its top, dropping some sort of cover on its length into the wastebasket. "What does that do?"

She gave him a slightly strange look, but answered calmly. "It's an electronic thermometer. It tells your temperature."

"Is mine good?"

Her expression gentled, and she put a hand over his, shaking her head. "No, Mr. Baggins; you still have a fever. We're giving you medicines to try and keep you comfortable with it, and antibiotics and fluids to treat your infection and dehydration, but you still have a ways to go."

"Oh."

She patted his hand. "But don't you worry. We're taking good care of you."

"Thank you."

"Try to sleep again if you can. It's still the middle of the night. I have to finish my rounds, but I'll come back to check on you."

Frodo watched her go, comforted. Allowing his eyes to close, he fell almost at once into a dreamless sleep. . .

. . .and awoke to the sound of voices.

People.

A great many of them, at that.

Most of them in white coats, all of them in strange clothing like those he had seen working on him that first day, all of them gathered not far from the foot of his bed. One of them was talking to the others, and one, who appeared to be the leader, was nodding approvingly. Occasionally Frodo could catch a few words - his name, and a few others, rather strange:

"vitals: temp a hundred and three point two, pulse. . ."

". . .resps. . ."

". . .off the vent, satting at. . ."

". . .delayed primary closure today. . ."

He didn't understand what any of it meant, nor even enough to ask his nurse. In truth, he felt deeply relieved when they moved on to the next bed without speaking directly to him.

It seemed an eternity of waiting in bed after that before he saw a familiar figure approaching.

"Gandalf!"

"Yes, Frodo, I am here." Coming to his charge's bedside, the wizard laid a gentle hand against Frodo's brow, frowning, and stroked back the dark curls. "How are you feeling this morning?"

"Very tired." The exhaustion of Mordor had yet to fully abate, though he would have imagined that all the sleep would have done more to ease it than this. "But I think the medicines are helping; the pain is better. Still I would wish for a drink of water."

Gandalf nodded. "I understand. Let us hope that soon you will be able to drink again."

"Yes. - Gandalf, this morning there was the strangest group of people near my bed. Talking. Who were they - do you know?"

Gandalf smiled. "They are your "team," Frodo. There is a group of doctors and medical staff in each part of the hospital called a "team." Rather like the Fellowship, only larger. They work together to care for the patients - the sick and injured - in this part of the hospital. That would have been the team for this unit."

"Oh." Frodo sighed. "It is very confusing. I cannot remember it all."

"You need not. You need remember only that you are here to get well, and that you are safe."

Weakly Frodo nodded. That was what mattered, surely.


	5. Chapter 5

Groggily Frodo stirred.

Someone was at his bedside.

"Mr. Baggins?"

He blinked dazedly. A figure in colourful smock and trousers stood beside him - it looked like one of the Big Folk men.

"Mr. Baggins, I'm Dr. Morn. I'll be doing your closure on your finger. First I'm going to numb you up, all right? You're going to feel a little needlestick."

Frodo winced as pain shot through his hand. Little? They called that little? But Gandalf was right: after all the pains he had endured, this seemed small enough that he could bear it, and much to his relief, he could quickly feel his hand going numb.

"Now, it's better if you don't watch. Just close your eyes and rest while I work, okay?"

Weakly Frodo let his eyes close, complying willingly. He heard a few unpleasant noises that made him feel determined not to think about what they might be doing to his hand, and instead tried to imagine sitting with Sam and Pippin and Merry, laughing and talking. But the image was not strong enough, not stronger than the darkness in his mind, and he shuddered.

"Hold his arm good and still. Almost got it."

Frodo resisted the urge to open his eyes.

"All right, Mr. Baggins," came the voice at last. "You're all done. Be careful with that until it finishes healing up."

"Don't look yet," whispered his nurse at his side. "Look at the ceiling, at me, at anything else, or just rest, but don't look at it yet."

Frodo gave a weak nod. He felt half-sick as it was.

Someone laid a cool cloth over his brow and eyes, and he sighed with relief.

He was safe. And they had fixed his finger.

Then why did it still hurt?


	6. Chapter 6

Abruptly Frodo woke.

Something felt different.

Something didn't feel right this time.

Almost at once he realised what it was, and frantically he pressed the little red button to ring for his nurse.

He needed a chamber-pot, and it could NOT wait.

Something else felt wrong, too. . .his stomach was cramping, and the room seemed hot. Too hot.

"What is it, Mr. Baggins?" The nurse came around the curtain to the foot of his bed, eyes dimming with concern as she caught sight of him. "Are you all right?"

Frodo shook his head. "Please, I - I - need to - relieve myself - "

"You have a catheter in; you're fine - "

"No. The other."

This she seemed to understand. "I'll get you a bedpan." He heard some movement as she left his range of sight - he felt too weak to turn his head to watch - and a moment later she returned with an uncomfortable-looking pan. "If you can roll onto your hip a little, I'll slide this beneath you."

To his relief, she moved to help him as he turned, then slipped the pan beneath his bottom and helped him sit on it securely. How humiliating this was! How he wished he could at least do this for himself - or, at worst, have Sam there to help him; Sam had nursed him through a terrible stomach flu once before, and had seen his master in compromising situations more than once.

He groaned as he felt hot semi-liquid substance rush out from his backside.

The nurse - Susan, he could see her name badge - returned with a thermometer and loosened his gown at the shoulder as they all did when checking his vitals. "Mr. Baggins, I'm going to get your temperature, all right? I know you're not feeling well right now, but I need to see whether we ought to call your doctor."

Vaguely Frodo nodded, allowing her to insert the probe between his arm and side. Another rush of semi-liquid. He felt humiliated to be using the chamber-vessel right there in front of a lady, but what alternative did he have?

It seemed to take a long time before the device beeped, and when it did, Susan looked concerned.

"Mr. Baggins, will you be all right for a moment while I go call your doctor?" Frodo nodded. "All right. I'll be right back to get you cleaned up."

That seemed to take even longer - not that Frodo minded; the urge to go was strong, and another attack came while she was away, though mercifully it seemed to have passed for the moment by the time she returned. Carefully she helped him roll off the pan, then began to clean him up with a gentle touch, using soft tissue and some kind of damp wipes that felt soft against Frodo's aching bottom. When at last she finished, she helped him return to his position on his back.

"Now you just tell me if you need the bedpan again, and I'll help you."

Frodo nodded faintly. "Is - is this usual? I haven't eaten anything to cause it - "

She shook her head. "It isn't unheard of, but it isn't supposed to happen. The doctor will be here soon to check you out, maybe order you some meds. Try to rest in the meantime."

Rest was not easy when the meantime included another attack of diarrhea. To Frodo's embarrassment, the nurse was still cleaning him up when a young woman walked up to the bed, a white coat over pale green trousers and smock. In a most matter-of-fact matter, she waited for the nurse to turn him back over, then pulled back his gown and began pressing lightly around the tubing going into him just below his collarbone.

"Does that hurt, Mr. Baggins?"

He shook his head. It felt strange, but not tender or painful.

"Are you having any pain anywhere?"

"My stomach."

"Show me."

Frodo gestured generally over his belly, and she placed one hand over the other, beginning to press gently over his tummy. When that didn't seem to cause him to do more than shift a little uncomfortably, she seemed pleased, nodding, and looked up at the nurse.

"Let's get a temp on him now, along with a portable chest to be on the safe side. I'll go ahead and write for acetaminophen suppositories, children's strength. Once the chest film's back, I'll write for his antibiotics. It's probably C. diff, but best to be sure."

Frodo listened, uncertain what they meant, feeling all the more nervous for it. The instructions given, the doctor bent over his bed and smiled gently. "Just take it easy, Mr. Baggins. We're going to see what's causing this and try to clear it up."

"Thank you."

"And in the meantime we're going to try and get you comfortable." She straightened, patting his uninjured hand lightly. "Try to rest. They'll be up to do your x-ray soon, and then you should be able to get some sleep again. Sorry to disturb you."

"It's all right." He watched as she went off in the direction the nurse had gone. A few minutes later, Susan returned, carrying something.

"Let's turn you back over for your Tylenol, Mr. Baggins." She helped him turn onto his side once more, and he felt her hands inserting something cool and solid but not painfully hard. Then she helped him turn back over and moved away; he could hear her washing her hands at the sink on the wall before she returned to his bedside. "Do you need anything else?"

"Please. . .it's too hot in here. . .is there anything you can do about that?"

"Let's see if this makes you feel a little better." She returned to the sink and cupboard, and he could hear water running. A few minutes later she came back with a cool, damp cloth, which she folded across his forehead. "Is that any help?"

"Oh, yes. . .thank you. Better." Closing his eyes, he sighed softly.

"Try to rest. I'll let you know when x-ray is here."


	7. Chapter 7

"Mr. Baggins. Mr. Baggins, we just need to get a picture of your chest."

Frodo blinked drowsily. He realised with a start that he had been half-drifting in and out of sleep, idly watching the nightly comings and goings of the unit. But now another attendant had arrived at his bedside, with a machine of some sort. . .one which she began positioning over his chest. How it could take a picture of his chest he had no idea, and what good a picture would do he had even less idea, but he nodded vaguely.

"Good. Now take a deep breath for me. . .in. . .and hold it till I say when."

He obeyed. It was more difficult than he had expected; his breathing was still difficult from the ash and fumes of Orodruin. There was a click and a noise, and then she smiled.

"All right, you can breathe. All done."

He let out the breath, coughing and struggling for air, relieved when the fit passed, then settled back into his pillows, closing his eyes once more. Vaguely he became aware of Susan at his bedside, and opened his eyes to see her changing the bags that hung from the poles by his bed, the bags which dripped into his tubing. More medicine, he supposed.

Again he closed his eyes, but he could not get comfortable. The room still felt stifling, and he felt dizzy and confused. Where was Gandalf? Wasn't it time for him to come again? Everything that had happened since leaving the Shire - and even many things before - seemed to blur. Around him he could hear voices.

". . .temp's up to one-oh-five. . ."

". . .get a cooling blanket for him stat. . ."

And hands lifted him up, lowering him back down onto some sort of blanket. It felt cold in comparison to his plain bed, and he whimpered. Susan's voice whispered in his ear.

"It's all right, Mr. Baggins. I know it's uncomfortable, but we have to use the cooling blanket because the Tylenol isn't bringing your fever down fast enough. We have to get your temperature down."

He didn't understand that, except for remembering that fevers could be dangerous. Dutifully he lay still, allowing cold cloths to be laid over his brow.

Still, it was miserable.

When he opened his eyes again, Gandalf was at his bedside, looking worried.

"Gandalf. . .what. . .happened?"

"From what they told me, you have developed a sickness caused by one of the medicines they are giving you to treat the sickness already overwhelming your body. They are giving you new medicine for it and doing all that they can for you."

"Are you. . .still sure. . .this was. . .the right thing?"

"Yes, Frodo." Gandalf's expression was grave. "Your condition is very serious. We would have lost you days ago in Middle-earth. But here they have at least been able to keep you alive, and despite this setback, you have come a very long way from the little hobbit I brought in."

Frodo mustered a weak nod. "Do you think they will let me have water soon?"

"They say that they will try to wean you from some of the medicine tomorrow. If that goes well, and you are able to come off it, then they will try you with a little clear liquid. I suspect they will be willing to give you crushed ice or ice chips. Though so long as your stomach is upset, you will need to have clear liquids - no milk, nothing solid most likely, not until they see that your tummy has calmed down."

"Very well." Frodo closed his eyes. "I'm so tired. . .I think I could sleep again."

"Then sleep, little one. The rest will do you good."


	8. Chapter 8

Frodo remembered very little of the remainder of the day. He dozed off and on, and was given Tylenol, and foul-tasting medicines with a little water, and only occasionally had to ask for the chamber-pan. Gradually he began to feel a little better - less achy, less dizzy. The young doctor came back several times to see to him, as did others in white coats, though it was the nurses who changed his bags of medicine and nourishment and fluids, who gave him medicine and sips of water, who helped make him comfortable and moistened his lips to soothe him, who continued to check his life signs every hour. Gandalf continued to visit when permitted, reassuring Frodo quietly with a warm smile.

That night he slept soundly, dreaming not of Gollum or of shadows or of Orodruin but of Gandalf and Pippin and Sam and Merry and the others, all together at last.

The next morning, some time after the "team" had been by, Allison arrived, smiling. She began to do something with the setup of his drips - what he wasn't quite sure, but he was curious.

"What are you doing, please?"

"We're going to turn down one of your medicines today and see how you do." From the expression on her face, Frodo gathered that this must be a good thing. "You'll be closely monitored, so we'll know at once if you get into trouble, but we're expecting you'll do well. Today is your seventh day here."

"Is this the medicine that if it gets turned off, I can have more water?"

She grinned. "Yes, it is. But don't rush yourself - the water will be there waiting for you when you're ready. I promise."

Smiling, Frodo settled back. . .and waited.

He didn't *feel* any diferent.

Was he supposed to?

The wait was, nonetheless, tiring, and Frodo found himself drowsing again. When next he woke, Gandalf was there - smiling.

"Feeling better?"

"A little." Frodo eyed him warily. "What is it? Did they have to turn the medicine back up?"

"Quite the contrary, my dear hobbit." Gandalf shook his head. "You are very close to being able to come off it completely. Some time tomorrow morning, perhaps."

"Good." Frodo smiled. "I would so like to have some water. It is not so bad as it was in - in Mordor; I suppose because they are giving me fluids, and because they give me a little water with those medicines. But I still I would like something cool to *drink*."

"Soon you may have it. And if you tolerate ice chips well, they may try you with other clear liquids - there are some very nice ones." Gandalf smiled kindly. "There are some jellies, and ice on a stick, sweetened and flavoured, called a popsicle. Of course there is broth, and apple juice, and there are some very pleasant sweet drinks that I believe you will find interesting."

Frodo's smile broadened. "I look forward to anything."


	9. Chapter 9

"Slowly now. Just a little at first."

Frodo opened his mouth eagerly as Gandalf brought a spoonful of ice chips to his mouth. Taking them in, he let them melt slowly on his tongue, running down his dry throat in welcome trickles. As soon as those were finished, he opened his mouth for more. Gandalf chuckled and offered him a little more.

"How does that feel?"

"Wonderful," replied Frodo through a mouthful of ice.

"Good, good. They say if this stays down, you can try broth and jelly for supper if you feel up to it. But only if you feel up to it."

"I'm sure I will." At once Frodo opened his mouth for more, and Gandalf continued to oblige. "Gandalf - when can the others come?"

"When you are well enough, my lad. Right now you are still too ill to have many visitors. I would not wish to bring them too long before they can see you; your kinsmen and Sam would drive everyone mad." But the wizard's smile was warm with amusement.

"I would have died without him. Without Sam."

"I know." Another spoonful of ice chips. "He knows, and he loves you all the more dearly for the cost of the Quest."

"Is - " Frodo hesitated, almost afraid of the answer. "Is he - going to be - all right?"

"Yes, Frodo. He will be fine." Gandalf smiled gently. "Aragorn is tending to him, and there is no better healer in all of Gondor. The hands of a king may not have been enough to bring you back, but they were enough to help you hold fast long enough for us to get you to aid. . .and they are enough to bring Sam back to his old self, hale and whole."

"Good. I could not bear it if - if it were any other way." Frodo yawned. "How long till I can try some broth and jelly, did you say? I'm tired, but I *do* feel a little hungry."

"Supper. Which is only a few hours away." Gandalf paused in offering ice chips to stroke Frodo's curls. "Sleep if you can. Your body still requires a great deal of rest, and sleep would do you good just now. And it is nearly time for me to return to the waiting-room, for visiting time is almost over for now."

Nodding, Frodo closed his eyes. "Thank you, Gandalf," he murmured faintly, allowing himself to sink into the deliciousness of slumber.


	10. Chapter 10

"Well, Mr. Baggins, this is a big day for you!"

Frodo looked up at Allison as she came to stand over his bed. "What is it?"

She smiled. "You get to go to the floor today. No more trauma unit for you."

"The floor?"

"The regular unit. They'll take very good care of you there; don't worry." She patted his hand. "I'm very glad to have met you, though, and I wish you the best of luck. Keep getting better, okay?"

"I'll try." He managed a smile for her. Surely this was a good sign, wasn't it?

The next several minutes were a flurry of activity. Allison signed papers, talked to strangers, and finally came back to his bedside one last time.

"You take care now, Mr. Baggins. I hope you feel better soon."

"Thank you. And thank you for taking care of me." Even as he spoke, someone came behind his bed to wheel him away, maneuvering poles and bed securely out from the curtained area and into the hall, back out to find the little double doors of bright metal. But just as he began to worry whether Gandalf would know where they were taking him, he found a familiar figure at his side.

"Gandalf!"

"Yes, my lad. I am here." Indeed, it was Gandalf, leaning over the bed with a warm smile. "Do you realise what this means, Frodo?"

The double doors opened, and Frodo was wheeled in, Gandalf accompanying them. "Something good? My nurse seemed to think so."

"Something very good. For one thing, the visiting hours on the regular unit are extended hours - nine o'clock in the morning until nine o'clock at night. I can stay with you all day unless you wish me to go."

"No! No, please - " Frodo was utterly delighted. "I would feel much better if you stayed."

"Then I shall stay. It is settled."

There was a ding, and the doors opened onto a new hallway, which they wheeled him out into, Gandalf still walking by his side. The unit they entered looked very different; it was decorated in soft colours, and seemed a little quieter. Instead of curtained areas, there were rooms with regular doors, much to Frodo's relief - the lack of privacy had begun to feel uncomfortable. Stopping at a large desk, his attendant handed papers to the lady working there, She smiled.

"Welcome, Mr. Baggins! You're in Room 350. We'll go ahead and take you down there; your nurse will be down to check you out in a few minutes."

Relieved, Frodo lay back as they wheeled him down to a room along the far side of the hall, near an even larger desk where several people were busily working. Entering the room, they wheeled Frodo's bed up even with the new one - which Frodo noticed seemed thicker and softer - and raised the new bed before lowering one railing and lifting him carefully into bed. At once they put these rails up and lowered the bed back down much of the way, though they left him in a reclining position. One of the attendants even stayed to show him how to work the control that made the bed go up and down, so he could lie down flat if he chose. For that he felt grateful. Gandalf, meanwhile, perched in a chair near the bed and waited quietly.

When they were gone, Frodo took it all in. There was a little night-stand beside his bed, and a sink in one corner. There were places to sit for guests. There even looked to be a bath-room near the sink.

"It's very nice, isn't it?" he whispered.

Gandalf nodded. "As hospitals go, this is one of the finest. I would have taken you nowhere but the best."

"Here we are, then!" A knock at the door heralded the arrival of a young woman with fluffy blonde hair, papers and writing-board in hand. "Good morning, Mr. Baggins. I'm Erica, and I'm going to be your nurse today. Mind if I check you out and ask you some questions?"

Frodo looked at Gandalf, then back at the nurse, shrugging. "That's fine. Go ahead."


	11. Chapter 11

Questions! Frodo found himself weary of answering questions, relieved when at last his new nurse turned her hand to examining him. This at least he would not have to talk so much for. Like Allison, she slipped the probe of an electronic thermometer between his arm and his side, writing something down once it beeped and discarding the probe cover. She held his wrist for a moment, silent, the way Lord Elrond did when checking his heart-beat, then wrote down something more. Then she undraped a strange instrument from around her neck, something he vaguely recalled Allison and the other nurses and doctors using in the first unit.

"I'm just going to listen to your chest, okay?"

Frodo nodded.

She warmed the little circle in her hands for a moment before touching it to his chest. "Breathe normally." He did so, allowing her to listen. After a moment, she helped him lean forward, and placed it against his back. "Take some deep breaths for me, please." The instrument began moving from place to place, as if she were checking for something. "Good." Removing the circle, she helped him lie back and tucked him back into bed.

"Now, your doctor will be around to see you soon. They're pretty busy today, but it shouldn't be too long. Can I get you something to drink in the meantime?"

Frodo was curious. "Yes, please. What do you have?"

"What would you like? There's Coke, Sprite, apple juice, grape juice, ginger ale, water. . . ."

"Ginger ale. . .please, I've never tried that before. Could I have a little?"

She smiled. "Of course. I'll bring you some in just a few minutes."

As soon as she was gone, Gandalf leaned closer, eyes twinkling. "A wise choice, Frodo. I think you will like it. Be sure to sip it very slowly; it may tickle at first."

"Tickle?" How could a drink tickle? Frodo wondered.

"It is bubbly, and sometimes people say that the bubbles tickle their nose. But ginger ale is a very good drink for when one is feeling ill."

"It sounded so." Frodo looked up as Erica came back in, carrying a white cup which she set before him.

"There you go! Need anything else?"

Frodo shook his head. "I think I'm all right for now, thank you."

"Someone will be by in a little while to fill up your water pitcher." She gestured to a pitcher and cup on the bedside table, and Frodo felt suddenly relieved to a degree he had not known possible. "Once your doctor sees you, he may change your diet orders - if so, we'll get those in for you as soon as possible."

"Thank you." Frodo smiled, reaching tentatively for the cup with his uninjured hand. Cautiously he grasped it - and - success! - managed to bring it to his lips.

The bubbles *did* tickle his nose!

Taking a tiny sip, he broke into a grin, and tried another mouthful.

Delicious.

Perhaps clear liquids weren't so bad after all.


	12. Chapter 12

"Deep breaths, please."

Frodo cooperated as the young man listened to his back with a strange instrument like that used by the nurses and other doctors - a stethoscope, had they called it? - leaning over a pillow for comfort. At last the man helped him lean back.

"How are you feeling?"

"Better, thank you." It was true - he felt much improved over only a few days past, though still he felt very tired, and the thought of getting out of bed caused his spirit to quail. But Gandalf had promised that they would not leave him to do so unassisted, and he had every reason to believe the wizard.

"Any pain - any aches?"

"Sometimes I ache, but the medicine seems to help." Frodo hesitated for a moment. Surely the doctor would think him mad. . .but he cast a look at Gandalf, who nodded firmly. "And sometimes my - my finger hurts."

"Which finger?"

"The one that's missing." Frodo swallowed nervously.

"Ah." The doctor nodded. "Let me take a look."

Frodo sat still while the doctor examined his stump, pressing lightly around the area.

"Well, Mr. Baggins, I'll ask your surgeon to stop by and double-check it, but it looks fine. It's probably what we call phantom pain. Your body has nerves which continue to send messages to your mind even after the nerve endings are severed. So you feel pain when really there is nothing there to feel. I'll write you something to help with it. Let me know if it continues to be a problem."

"Thank you." Relieved, Frodo pulled the blankets up more closely. Phantom pain! Who would ever have thought of that?

"How's your stomach feeling?" The doctor bent over the bed and folded back the blankets to press against Frodo's tummy. "Any difficulty with the liquid diet?"

"No. I'm all right there." Frodo mustered a smile. "It's good to be able to drink again."

"Good." His caregiver nodded. "Well, considering how you're progressing, I think we can try you on a full liquid diet and see how that goes. How does that sound?"

Frodo looked at Gandalf, uncertain what "full liquid" meant, and the wizard nodded, smiling. It must mean good news. The little hobbit looked back up at his doctor.

"Wonderful."

"Then I'll get the orders in this morning, see if we can't get your lunch switched over." He frowned slightly. "Just one more thing, Mr. Baggins - "

"Yes?"

The doctor pulled up a seat by the bed. "I understand that you are a - hobbit. Would you mind elaborating for me just a bit on what your race is normally like?"

"Oh!" Frodo blushed, suddenly realising that these doctors had probably never so much as seen a hobbit before. "Well, we're all about my height, really, most a bit shorter - I'm on the tallish side - and we all have feet like mine, with foothair on top. Mostly we're what men would call chubby, too - "fat in the stomach," I think one of them said once, but it has been many months since I lived among my own people and in my usual manner."

A nod, then a glance to Gandalf. "Wasn't there a set of movies about hobbits? I'm thinking that there was. . . ."

"There is indeed." Gandalf cleared his throat quietly, and Frodo blinked in astonishment. "Directed by a Peter Jackson. I highly recommend the extended editions. Not all of what is told in them is, of course, truth - but some of it is, and if you would like a better idea of what your - patient - has endured, then I would strongly recommend them."

The doctor seemed taken aback, but managed a nod. "I'll - have to rent those," he managed at last, rising. "Let me just go get your orders in, Mr. Baggins."

"One question, please," Frodo ventured tentatively.

"Yes?" The doctor paused at the door, turning back.

"When may I go home?"

The doctor shifted his writing-board in his hands. "Not until you improve considerably. Right now you still have a fever and we still have you on IV antibiotics and oxygen, plus you're just now starting a trial of full liquids. We need you off IV antibiotics, eating reasonably well, with good urine output before we can even consider it. I'd like to see you afebrile before I'd look at releasing you."

"How long will that take?"

The doctor shrugged. "It depends on how well you do. But you have almost another week of IV antibiotics, guaranteed, so no earlier than that, if then."

"Oh. Thank you." Frodo watched him go, then turned to Gandalf. "Come to that, what *is* "full liquid," and how do we get home?"

Gandalf smiled kindly. "Full liquid means things like creamed soups and milk. . .and a special treat they have, called ice cream, which you must try. As for getting home, you must stay here for a while at least first. We will go to a house that has been prepared for us; the others shall come too, and there we shall care for you until you are ready to return to Middle-earth."

"I see." Frodo looked up as Erica came bustling in, carrying a small round container and a spoon.

"Mr. Baggins, it's going to take a little extra time to get your lunch tray sorted, so I'm afraid it might be a little late getting here. I thought you might like something to tide you over in the meantime, since it'll be a while." She held out the little container, which bore a lid reading, "VANILLA ICE CREAM." "Do you need any help?"

Frodo shook his head, smiling. "G - my grandfather will help me. Thank you." He waited until she was outside, then held out the container to Gandalf with delight. "Can you get it open and hold it? I think I can try to manage it if you can hold it still for me."

Gandalf chuckled. "Of course, Frodo." Peeling back the lid, he offered it to Frodo. "Many people like to lick the lid. A little ice cream remains on it after it is pulled away."

Eagerly Frodo tasted. The sweetness of vanilla greeted his tongue, and he lapped it up eagerly, relinquishing the lid to Gandalf regretfully at last. The wizard laughed.

"There is more in the cup, Frodo. Eat it up before it melts. It is like snow, and will melt if left out."

Frodo took a spoonful, licking the bowl of the utensil clean.

Delicious.

Sweet and soft and smooth all at once.

He looked up at Gandalf hopefully.

"I think I like "full liquids.""


	13. Chapter 13

Darkness.

All around him was darkness, and it was burning hot.

A light shone ahead, and he followed it, emerging into a cavern overlooking a lake of fire.

Mount Doom. . .yes, this must be it. . . .

He looked down to see the Ring upon his hand. . .just before sharp teeth closed over it.

"Frodo! Frodo, wake up! It is only a dream!"

Gandalf's reassuring voice pulled him back, and he caught his breath, which came in short gasps. He could feel Gandalf wiping his brow with a damp cloth. "What happened? It was so real. . . ."

"It was only a fever-dream, lad. They can seem very real sometimes. Try and lie still." Gandalf continued to bathe his forehead. "Do you think you could take a little something to drink?"

"Yes. . .I think so." Lunch had been substantial in comparison to the clear liquid meals Frodo was accustomed to - a hearty bowl of strained vegetable beef soup, a carton of milk, and another container of the delicious ice cream - and Frodo had fallen soundly asleep soon thereafter, tired out from the morning's doctor visit. Now he felt hot and thirsty - and still thoroughly shaken.

Gandalf reached over and pressed the red call button, and soon enough Erica poked her head in the door.

"Yes, Mr. Baggins?" At once she came over to the bed. "Are you feeling worse?"

"A little."

"Could he get some ginger ale? We were thinking he could try some sips of that," explained Gandalf quietly.

Erica nodded. "Sure thing. Just let me get his temp first." She took the electronic thermometer from her pocket and went through the usual procedure, frowning slightly at this result. "Mm. Your temp's back up a little. Not enough for a cooling blanket, but it's close to time for some more Tylenol."

Frodo closed his eyes. He hated having anyone, much less ladies, see his backside, but there was nothing for it, he supposed. Besides, he had bigger problems to worry about. As soon as Erica left the room, he turned to Gandalf, opening his eyes to face the wizard.

"Gandalf. . .what are those "movies" you spoke of earlier? About hobbits?"

Gandalf's eyes grew gentle. "There are, in this time, moving pictures with sound, Frodo. They are used to inform and entertain people, much like plays. Someone has made a moving picture about your story, because in this time, it has already taken place. I would recommend against your seeing it; it contains certain. . .inaccuracies. . .as well as bits of a future based on a life had you never come to this age of Men. But when you come home, perhaps you may see other moving pictures; I believe that you would enjoy them. There are funny ones, and sad ones, great epic ones, and ordinary ones. Whatever you might like to see, it probably exists."

"Oh." Drowsily Frodo closed his eyes. "I should like to watch some."

"You may. If you like, there is a moving picture box up there - " Gandalf pointed to a strange box hanging from the ceiling which Frodo had not noticed before. " - which has programs of various sorts. It might amuse you. There are rules about the hours when it may be used here, but during the day and evening you may watch it."

"Let's find something to watch, then." Frodo nodded as Gandalf began to use some sort of control to turn the box on and switch between different pictures, pausing at each for Frodo's approval. There were funny pictures, Big Folk arguing in elaborate clothing, and - some sort of courtroom -

"What about that? I wonder what laws the Big Folk have here."

Gandalf smiled and turned the volume up so that Frodo could hear. Just then Erica returned, carrying a cup of ginger ale and a Tylenol suppository.

"All right, Mr. Baggins, if you could just turn over for me. . . ."

Blushing, Frodo turned onto his side and pulled up his legs as she indicated, allowing her to slip the bolus into the necessary location and hold it in, then let him go. She went to wash her hands at the sink, and he turned back over, taking the cup of ginger ale carefully and sipping from the drinking-tube.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. Now, if you need anything, just call for me, all right? I'll be back to check on you again before shift change."

Still sipping, Frodo nodded and turned his attention back to the box.

A dispute over a pet dog.

Some things, he mused wryly, were very alike between hobbits and "modern" Big Folk.


	14. Chapter 14

"Hi. I'm Dr. Eckhart, and I'm going to be your doctor. Do you have any questions for me?"

"Yes." Frodo nodded to the pretty but tired-looking young woman who had just entered his room and announced herself to him. "Why do I have so many doctors?"

She looked slightly flustered. "Partly because the rotations change - different doctors come and go. I'm taking over from Dr. Kemp, who was here for March; it's April now, so I'm on service. Partly because you have different doctors to take care of things like your hand - the surgeons took care of it, and they're following you too." She bent over his bed. "On that note, let's have a look at you."

Frodo lay quietly and cooperated as she went through the usual routine. She seemed pleased, which pleased him.

"No more diarrhea?"

Frodo shook his head.

"Good. Well, the nurses tell me you're doing fine with liquids, so I was wondering how you'd feel about trying a soft diet. Nothing rich, nothing too difficult to digest - just a simple soft diet."

That didn't sound so bad. Frodo nodded. "That sounds fine."

"Good." She smiled mischievously. "By the way, I've seen your movies. I own all of them. And the book."

Frodo gulped.

"I know they aren't completely accurate, but - allow me to say what a great honor this is, Mr. Baggins. We'll do our best to have you back on a normal diet and enjoying time with your friends as soon as we can. And - " she added, more sternly, "I want to see you walking."

"Walking?"

She grinned. "I'll make you an offer. If we get that catheter out, will you try walking to the bathroom and back for me? You'll still need to use the container in there, because they'll have to monitor your output, but - would you like that better?"

"Would I!" Frodo beamed at the prospect.

"Then it's settled. And while we're on the subject - " She gestured to the oxygen cannula. "Do you think you can do without that long enough to get to the bathroom and back, or shall I have them set you up with a portable arrangement?"

"Portable, please." He still felt rather daunted by the thought of getting to the bathroom and back - his first time walking since - well, since Mount Doom.

"Then that's settled too." She rose, smiling. "We'll get you all fixed up, then! Look for a menu change around lunch if we can swing it."

And with that, she was gone.

Gandalf smiled.

"You are doing well."

"I'm rather worried about that getting to the bathroom part." Frodo frowned.

"Don't be. I will help you. And when I am not here, a nurse will help you."

"Maybe after they get this thing out and I have something else to drink, I'll try, then." Frodo sighed, lying back against his pillows. "Who knew that a house of healing could be so exhausting?"


	15. Chapter 15

"Are you all right, Frodo?"

"I think so. So far, at least." The little hobbit paused for breath, leaning on Gandalf's arm. "Is it *very* much farther?"

"Not far. Look up."

Frodo looked up, suddenly overwhelmed by the distance between himself, some few steps from the bed, and his bathroom. "I - Gandalf, I can't - "

"Yes, you can, Frodo. I've got you. Just breathe slowly and take small steps."

Bracing himself, Frodo tried to do just that. . .and found that the distance between his feet and the bathroom slowly began to close. Thank goodness - he needed to relieve himself, and did not relish the thought of an accident; he was no faunt! Step upon painstaking step brought him nearer. . .and nearer. . .until finally they reached what Gandalf had told him was the "toilet." Much to Frodo's relief, Gandalf turned his back while Frodo, holding fast to the railing along the wall, took care of matters, then helped him back to the sink to wash his hands. Looking up, Frodo caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror.

At once he blanched.

The stranger who looked back at him looked nothing like even the thinner reflection of himself he remembered from Rivendell. This hobbit looked thin to the point of unhealthiness, the cheekbones too sharp in the pallid, sickly-hued face, a deep scratch marring one cheek. There was a redness around his eyes, which looked too large in his sharply featured face. His gown seemed to hang on his body, not quite covering the carefully dressed wounds about his neck - he could not see Shelob's sting, but he could feel it, and he could definitely see the dressings over the circling where the Ring on its chain had cut into his skin.

Gently Gandalf turned him away. At last the wizard spoke, helping him back to his bed.

"Are you all right, Frodo?"

"Easy for you to ask." Frodo's brow was damp with perspiration, his mind still reeling from the image in the glass. He glared up at Gandalf crossly. "I'm exhausted."

"Then let us get you back into bed. If you are too tired to rise next time, there is a vessel - it is only that your doctor wants you to get up and walk when you can, so that fluid will not pool in your chest and cause pneumonia."

"Pneumonia?" That was all he needed on top of this. He had had pneumonia before, and more than once, too, and his memories of it were. . .most unpleasant, to say the least.

"Yes. Lying in bed too long without movement may cause pneumonia. But you are walking, and that will help you grow stronger." Gandalf helped him back into bed. "How do the feet feel?"

"A bit sore. But nothing like the pain I was in - before."

"Good. That will improve with time." Putting up the railing, Gandalf resumed his seat beside the bed. He looked strange without his pipe, but Frodo considered it an opportune enough moment to venture a question.

"Gandalf?"

"Yes?"

"How long - I mean, when must I return?"

Gandalf smiled gently. "That is news I have long waited to tell you, Frodo. Good news."

Frodo listened curiously.

"You may not go home until you have recovered more fully. That will take much time. But - " Gandalf paused. "Should you wish to stay in this time, you may do so for as long as you like. You and your companions may remain here, at the same ages you are now, until you wish to come home. You will have all that you need, and you can experience all the pleasures of this world." His gaze and voice softened compassionately. "I think it might suit you well now. You have changed, and the world has not changed so much as you have. . .not in the time to which we shall return."

Frodo felt as if the world had fallen from beneath his bed and been replaced by a gaping hole only to be replaced again by soft yet solid new ground. To stay in this new world. . . "And. . .and Sam and Pippin and Merry can come too?"

"Of course, my dear boy, of course. Others of the Fellowship may come as well, if you are willing. You will need the help of Big Folk to face a world not accustomed to hobbits outside of storybooks and movies."

Nodding, Frodo smiled. "Then I shall stay. . .for a very long time."


	16. Chapter 16

"How are you feeling, Mr. Baggins?"

"Sleepy, mostly. And hungry." Frodo blinked bemusedly at the array of people who had interrupted his breakfast. He knew they had come before since he had been on this unit, but the mornings of his liquid diet he had been half-asleep and paid little attention to them. They had performed a few cursory examinations before leaving him in peace. But this morning there were more of them, and they did not seem very much inclined toward leaving him alone now that he was awake.

A pity, considering what a nice breakfast had been sent up.

Admittedly, it wasn't like home, or even Rivendell, but still. . .for the sort of food they served here, it was nice enough. Scrambled eggs, buttered toast with jam in little packages for spreading, applesauce, milk, a strange new something to drink called orange juice, and a cup of coffee, though he had no desire for coffee, as he seldom did when ill.

The interruption was most unwelcome.

But Dr. Eckhart smiled kindly, and Frodo could not bear to be cross with her. "We'll let you get back to your breakfast in a moment, Mr. Baggins; I promise. But first, would you mind if we examined you?"

"Go ahead." Frodo yielded while she and another doctor examined him thoroughly, listening to his chest and back, checking his finger-stump and the wounds around his neck, uncomfortably aware that at least a dozen pairs of eyes rested on him.

"Very good. We'll let you get back to breakfast now, Mr. Baggins, but I'll be back later to talk to you." Dr. Eckhart smiled and moved his tray closer, much to his delight; she had moved it away as she greeted him. As the party made their exit, he carefully pulled open the little container of orange juice and sniffed.

Smelled like sunshine.

Sharp and tangy and sweet all at once.

Cautiously he ventured a small sip, breaking at once into a smile.

It tasted exactly like it smelled, and it was delicious. Beginning to work his way around the plate, from egg to toast to applesauce back to juice, reserving the milk for afterward, Frodo paced himself with eager little sips. At last Karen - his nurse on Erica's days off - came in.

"How's breakfast coming?"

"Mmm-hm." Frodo nodded through a mouthful of applesauce, wiping his mouth politely and swallowing before replying further. "Very good, thank you. Especially the orange juice."

She caught a glimpse of the now-empty container. "Would you like some more? I can bring you some."

Frodo's eyes widened. "Would you?"

"Sure. And soon it'll be time for your grandfather to be here."

Frodo nodded eagerly, glancing at the clock on his wall. Past eight o'clock already - and Gandalf could come at nine. Less than an hour to wait.

And if he could have orange juice, a wait was no matter at all.


	17. Chapter 17

"Mr. Baggins?"

"Erm. . .yes?" Frodo looked up from the mid-morning cup of ice cream the nurse had so kindly agreed to bring him (on the condition that he eat his lunch), startled by the sight of a girl at the door. She was one of the Big Folk, but looked even younger than most of his doctors, though she wore a white coat as well - this one, he noticed, ending at the waist rather than falling past the hips to reach the knees or so. She looked nervous, and he felt almost sorry for her. "What is it?"

"My name is Elizabeth Shaw. I'm a medical student here, and I wondered whether you'd mind my asking you a few questions."

Frodo shook his head. "Not if you don't mind letting me finish this while we talk."

"Deal." Smiling, she pulled up a chair (Gandalf's chair, Frodo noted with some amusement; the wizard had finally given in and gone downstairs to have a pipe-smoke outside), and settled down beside Frodo's bed. "How old are you, Mr. Baggins?"

"Fifty-one."

She blinked slightly, but made no comment. "And you are a - hobbit?"

"Yes."

"I saw the movies. If I could ask - " She lowered her voice. "You're *the* Frodo Baggins?"

Frodo shrugged. "I don't know whether I'm the one you mean, but - I'm the only one I've ever known, and everyone knows practically everyone else in the Shire and Buckland."

"Remarkable." Shaking her head, she watched him lap ice cream from the spoon. "Do you like that?"

"It's one of the best things I've ever tasted."

"Good. It'll help build you back up. Anything made from milk is good for you right now. How's your stomach?"

"Fine, I think."

"Tolerating the soft diet okay?"

"Mmm-hm."

"Good." As he finished the ice cream, she rose. "Well, if you don't mind, I'd really like to have a look at you. I promise to try not to hurt you. If I hurt you, just tell me to stop and I will. Would that be all right?"

Frodo nodded.

Carefully she began checking his neck wounds, then his shoulder and his finger stump before swinging her stethoscope off her neck and asking him to breathe for her so she could listen to his chest and back. Unfortunately, she hadn't remembered to warm the bell first, and it was cold to the touch against his body. Still, he tried not to complain, allowing her to work, noting her obvious interest in his injuries and in his foothair when she checked his feet and ankles the way the nurses did. At last she went to the sink and washed her hands.

"Thank you, Mr. Baggins. I appreciate this very much."

"You're welcome." Frodo wasn't quite certain what this was all about; he supposed that students had to ask patients before talking to them, then? In any case, he hadn't minded. She had kept her promise and not hurt him.

On the other hand, the sight of the young man coming in the door. . .

"Mr. Baggins? I'm John Cloud; I'm a medical student here, and I was wondering. . ."

Frodo swallowed a groan.

It was going to be a *terribly* long day.


	18. Chapter 18

"I'm so happy to be here, Regis."

"Well, we're happy to have you, Mark. Now. . .let's play. . .Who Wants To Be A Millionaire!"

Frodo watched avidly as the music and lights swirled. He understood hardly any of the questions on this program, but it was interesting, and he was learning a few things about Big Folk in this age in the meantime. They seemed inordinately fond of matters pertaining to programs from the box - the TV, he corrected himself - and all sorts of important-sounding figures ranging from political personages to singers. Sipping his ginger ale, Frodo listened as Mark missed a question and dropped out and a girl named Marie came up to the chair.

A knock interrupted him, and he looked up to find Carrie, his evening nurse, entering the room, syringe in hand. At once he groaned.

"Do we have to?"

"I'm afraid so, Mr. Baggins. I'm sorry; I know it's getting hard to find a spot on you that isn't already bruised up." Gently she pulled back the blankets and pulled up his gown, exposing his stomach, which was now even more bruised than it had been before he came to the hospital. Though he had not thought much of the pinch and sting of the daily "Lovenox" injections at first, he found himself beginning to abhor them. Even pinching up enough of him to inject the stuff hurt. That was not to mention the injection itself. Still, he was glad Gandalf had given in once again and gone downstairs for another pipe-smoke. He would have hated for the wizard to see him behaving so. Even he felt ashamed of himself.

"I don't blame you for not liking them," Carrie went on sympathetically. "They're no fun. But when you go home, you won't have to have them any more."

Frodo nodded, studiously keeping his eyes on the TV as she injected a fold of his tummy with the burning stuff. "Remind me again why I have to have it, please? So many medicines - I forget."

"To keep you from getting blood clots. Those could be very dangerous, and if you're in bed a lot, you're more prone to get them." She disposed of the needle and syringe in the "biohazard" (another new word for Frodo) container on the wall. "No more of those till tomorrow now. Call for me if you need anything. I'll be back to check on you in a bit."

She crossed paths with Gandalf in going out, and the wizard looked worried as he entered the room. "Frodo, are you all right? Was there something you needed?"

Frodo shook his head. "Just one of those shots they're always giving me. I didn't want it, but they say I have to have them."

"It is wise to listen to them." Gandalf reclaimed his chair. "I know that their ways may seem strange, Frodo, and their methods painful, but - you do not remember when you were brought to Rivendell, and Lord Elrond had to remove the fragment of blade that was working its way toward your heart."

"No." Frodo shuddered, but leaned forward, curious.

"If you could have seen how you struggled! It nearly broke Bilbo's heart, and Sam's too, I believe. Sam helped us hold you still so Lord Elrond could put you into a healing sleep long enough to remove the fragment and allow you some rest. You made war against everything we tried to do to help you, so that it took Sam, Aragorn, *and* myself to hold you still." He chuckled. "You are a fighter, Frodo, and you have proven it on more than one occasion! And so it is again. But do not fight your healers here. They intend you only good. And I will not allow them to do you any harm."

Frodo smiled. "I'll try to behave. But mind, I won't say how!"


	19. Chapter 19

"How's your breathing today, Mr. Baggins?"

"Better." Frodo smiled for Dr. Eckhart as she pulled her stethoscope up, preparing to listen to his chest. "I don't feel short of breath any longer."

"Good." She listened to his chest, then his back. "Well, I think we can try you without the oxygen today and see how that goes."

Frodo looked up at her, wide-eyed. "Without it?"

"We'll keep it in your room for a while in case you need it again. But I don't think you will. Your lungs sound good, and you don't seem short of breath; I think it's worth a try." She smiled. "And how would you like to try a regular diet? Not soft, not liquid, just normal food."

Frodo blinked. "Could I? Today?"

Dr. Eckhart laughed. "I think so. Let's give it a try and see how you do. I think you're ready."

"Thank you!"

"Thank yourself. You're the one doing the work getting better." With a grin, she turned to go. "I'll go put your orders in. Don't take it too quickly, now. . .remember to go slowly when you get that lunch tray!"

Frodo laughed, and for the first time in days he felt *much* better.

The rest of the morning was rather ordinary. Gandalf came, bringing him puzzle books from the hospital gift shop - one had a list of words, and had to find them all in a block of letters on the page beside it. Find-A-Word, it was called, and Word Search. He was getting quite good at it by the time his lunch tray arrived, but that was enough for him to eagerly lay aside games in favour of his meal. Patiently Gandalf helped him uncover the tray.

There was fish, cooked in some kind of crumb coating. . .mashed potatoes. . .green peas. . .milk. . .and red jelly with whipped cream on top.

Suddenly Frodo felt sick.

"Please - take it away - "

At once Gandalf re-covered the tray, pushing it away from the bed. "What is it, Frodo? Is it too strong for you?"

Frodo shook his head. "No, please - it's - it's the fish - "

Understanding dawned in Gandalf's eyes, and he rose, taking the tray out of the room with him. A few minutes later he returned, sitting beside Frodo to rub the little hobbit's back gently.

"It is all right, Frodo. It is gone. I have asked them to bring you something else instead."

Frodo nodded with relief, the nausea beginning to subside a little as the smell dissipated.

Soon enough, an attendant arrived with another tray. This one Gandalf opened as Frodo watched warily.

Vegetable soup. . .crackers. . .milk. . .a fresh pear. . .and red jelly with whipped cream on top.

Frodo smiled.

"Do you think you can manage this, Frodo?"

But Frodo was already happily crumbling crackers into his bowl of soup.


	20. Chapter 20

"Good morning, Dr. Eckhart!"

"Well, isn't that a cheery good morning!" The doctor looked pleased as she came to Frodo's bedside. "I take it you're happier since we didn't quite interrupt your breakfast this morning?"

"Yes." Laughing, Frodo nodded. "I can't help it; I miss my meals and I get cross. Bilbo used to say he didn't want to speak with me before I'd had first breakfast."

"Your uncle and guardian."

"Yes."

She smiled. "How are you liking the change in diet - or, should I say, how is it liking you?"

"Very well, thank you." Indeed, Frodo was pleased. This morning he had had something called a grapefruit half, which had been awkward to eat but tasty, toast with butter and jam, scrambled eggs, bacon, orange juice, and milk. Delicious. And Gandalf had promised that things would be even better at home, where they could get such ingredients as oranges but where food could be prepared to his taste, as it was at home or in Rivendell.

"Let me check you out, then." She began to go through the routine, and Frodo yielded readily enough, the entire process memorized by now. He had been examined more times than he could count in the first week of his hospital stay alone, and probably more still during the second, when he was healing enough for medical students and "residents" to come poke, prod, and question him.

"Well, Mr. Baggins, you seem to be doing very well. How would you like to go home soon?"

"Really?" Frodo could hardly believe his ears.

She nodded. "We'll see how you do today, but. . .very soon, I think."

"Are you sure?"

Again the nod. "We'll switch your other antibiotic to a pill first and see how you do with that. Let us know if it upsets your stomach or anything else happens. I don't anticipate any problems."

And she was gone.

It seemed no time at all before Erica arrived, carrying a tiny cup with a small *something* in it and a cup of water.

"Time for your next antibiotic, Mr. Baggins!"

Frodo accepted the little cup, eyeing the pill dubiously. "Do I swallow this like the other medicine?"

"Unless you want me to run Dr. Eckhart down and get her to order you back on IV." She grinned mischievously.

Promptly Frodo downed the pill, accepting the cup of water to wash it down.


	21. Chapter 21

"Well, Mr. Baggins - you're switched over to oral antibiotics, you're off oxygen and IVs, and you're tolerating a normal diet with plenty of protein and calories well. I'd say you're ready to have that line pulled and go home."

Frodo fairly beamed as Dr. Eckhart patted his hand. "I'm feeling much better. Can I really go home today?"

"You certainly can." The young doctor grinned. "Now, I want you to come right back if you have a fever again or if you start having trouble keeping things down or having trouble breathing, but I think you're going to be fine. You've made a remarkable recovery."

"Thank you. I couldn't have done it without all of you here." Shyly Frodo reached out and put his arms around her gratefully. Much to his surprise, she returned the gesture.

"Don't thank me. . .thank yourself. And your friends. Speaking of which. . .I believe you have some guests in the hall. Normally we have a rule about the number of visitors at once, but I thought since they were *small*, we might make an exception just this once. . . ." With a wink, she stepped back and opened the door, and in spilled. . .Merry, Pippin, and. . .Sam! Dear Sam, looking not as Frodo had last seen him, but clean and whole and excited. . .and positively close to tears, when he caught sight of his master.

"I didn't ought to have left you alone, but I couldn't do anything about it - by the time I woke up, you were already gone!" he cried, Merry and Pippin moving to allow him to claim his place at Frodo's bedside. "Are you all right, Mr. Frodo? They didn't hurt you, did they?"

"I'll just leave you four alone," whispered Dr. Eckhart, slipping out and closing the door behind her with a smile as Frodo waved one-handed to her, his other arm around Sam.

"No. . .no, Sam, they didn't hurt me. I mean, it hurt some, but - they helped me. They saved my life. And - " His face fairly glowed. "This is a wonderful place and time! They have the most delicious things - you must try them - there's ice cream, almost like snow, only better tasting, and ginger ale, which isn't ale at all, but tickles your nose. . . ." He embraced Pippin and Merry as well, encouraging everyone onto the bed. "The nurses here are so kind. They wear colourful smocks and trousers, and they're a bit like Shire dry-nurses, but not exactly; they know how to do lots of things that healers can do. They're *very* smart. Of course, so are the doctors. Everyone here seems to know a great deal about their work; they've taken good care of me."

"Well, just wait till you see the house we're going to live in!" boasted Pippin delightedly. "It's perfect - you'll love it! It's not very far from here, and - well, I'm not allowed to tell you about your room and spoil the surprise, but it has all kinds of strange things in the kitchen that Aragorn and Gandalf know how to use, wonderful things!"

"And there's a fair library, too, Mr. Frodo," said Sam, smiling. "Mr. Gandalf said I could tell you about that. There's plenty o'reading matter there, and they say they can get more for you any time you want - there are bookshops here, great big ones, and something called a public library where you can borrow books and things. I never did see so many cookbooks in my life as I did in that library at home." He frowned, smoothing Frodo's curls. "Don't suppose you fancy looking through them for what might sound good to you? A big mug o'Mam's tater soup, that's what you need. Too peaked-looking still. Too thin."

"I've only just been eating again for a few days. I couldn't eat for the better part of my first week here."

Three mouths gaped open.

"How in the world did you bear it?"

"How are you still alive? Were they trying to *kill* you?"

"Blasted Big Folk, trying to starve poor Mr. Frodo. . . , I knew I ought to have been here!" (This from Sam.)

"No. . .no, it's all right. They were trying to help me." And so Frodo began to explain about the medicines and the fluids and the lines and all sorts of things he had learned, slowing down now and again as the three looked bemused. Three pairs of eyes grew wider and wider, until at last Frodo finished his tale and they sat in stunned silence.

At last Sam embraced Frodo, and the others followed suit.

"It's all right now, Mr. Frodo," he whispered. "It's all right; nothing's going to hurt you again. Your Sam's here now."


	22. Chapter 22

"Easy now, Mr. Frodo. Mr. Gandalf's got you."

Frodo allowed Gandalf to gather him easily into strong arms, sighing with relief as he was lifted from the seat of the strange moving vehicle that had carried them to the great house which lay before his eyes. The ride had made him feel sick and dizzy, and he was grateful for the motion to stop - and for Aragorn's promise that there was ginger ale inside, in something called a "refrigerator." ("It keeps food and drink cold," Aragorn had explained, and the prospect sounded interesting, but not interesting enough for Frodo to ask questions during the ride home.) Several steps, and they were at the door, which was promptly opened by Legolas.

"Welcome home, Frodo. Your bed awaits you."

"Thank you." Burying his face against Gandalf's beard for comfort, Frodo let himself be carried to a spacious but not oversized room just off the hallway, where a beautiful little bed stood ready to receive him, covers folded back and pillows propped comfortably. To his delight, the window beside it was round, and looked out upon a garden in springtime bloom. Beside the bed stood a night-table with a pitcher of water and a cup, a box full of "tissues," and a small bell, the perfect size for a hobbit's hand, as well as controls for the boxes across from his bed - a TV and, as Pippin had eagerly explained to him on the way home, a DVD player which would show the "movies" of which Gandalf had spoken.

"If you have need of anything when you are unattended, you have only to ring the bell," Gandalf reassured him, easing him into bed. "Day or night, at least one of us will answer you."

"Thank you." Frodo pinked slightly at the attention, though he felt grateful for it.

"And we have another surprise for you, if you think you can bear it."

"I think so. What is it?" Frodo allowed Gandalf to finish removing his clothing and slip him into soft, strange, but comfortable nightclothes - pajamas, the wizard had called them.

"You shall see." Finishing the last buttons on Frodo's pajama top, Gandalf rose and went to the door. "Come in, my friend."

Frodo gaped.

Boromir walked slowly but steadily into the room, pausing some distance from Frodo's bed, apology in his gaze. "We meet again, Frodo."

"And so we do." Frodo hesitated. Memories flooded his mind. . .of Boromir's large hands on him as the man tried to wrest the Ring away. . .but others as well: Boromir calling him "little one," Boromir carrying him from Moria as he cried out and wept for Gandalf, Boromir in Lothlorien coaxing his burdened spirit to peace. . . .

At once he opened his arms.

Shyly Boromir stooped to embrace him, but Frodo could hear him weeping.

"I have wronged you," he whispered. "I have wronged you, and it cannot be undone. If only I had not stood in your way - "

"It is no matter, Boromir. It had to be thus." Calmly Frodo embraced him as best he could, given the man's size. "All is forgiven. And now you are here, and whole, and that is what matters. But we thought you were dead! I am glad to see that we were wrong!"

"Almost you struck in the gold, little one." Boromir smiled. "But Gandalf rescued me, and brought me to the same place where you were taken. They saved my life. I was after brought here to help prepare a place. . .in case you should need to come here. . .afterwards."

"I am so glad." Frodo smiled. "You must teach me all about this new world. I still have no idea how to operate anything more than the TV!"

"You will learn. There is time yet for you to heal, and to learn, and to enjoy it all." Boromir beamed. "I have even learned how to drive one of those "vehicles," so I promise you a treat when you are feeling well enough."

"I should love that."

"Rest now." Gandalf smiled kindly. "I'll bring you some ginger ale to sip. We must keep you in liquids, or you will have to go back to the hospital."

"I'll take the liquids," Frodo replied quickly, wide-eyed.

Gandalf laughed. "I thought you might! Rest while I bring it, and after you drink, you can sleep for a while. At least until your next meal."

Frodo watched them go, then turned back to the garden, listening to the hustle and bustle of the house - Legolas and Gimli talking in the kitchen, Boromir and Aragorn in the hall, Gandalf's voice joining theirs. . . . Suddenly there came a sharp cry from Sam.

"PEREGRIN TOOK! You'll be the death of us all if someone doesn't straighten you up! That's tater peeling duty for you, you and Master Merry both, and I oughtn't hear one complaint out of either of you after that!"

Frodo laughed.

Everything was going to be fine.

In fact, it just might be wonderful.

-the end-


End file.
